


Theoretical Discussions

by topquark



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff, I still dont know what her first name is so trevy it is, Implied Leliana/Warden, Inquisitor "Trevy" Trevelyan, implied bad family, mathematics discussion, mention of Inquisitor's childhood, nerd!Inquisitor, shy!Inquisitor, storms are bad and mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 11:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topquark/pseuds/topquark
Summary: The Ambassador and Inquisitor could not sleep amidst a storm. They find themselves discussing math, which turns into more intimate topics.





	Theoretical Discussions

Being alone does not bother the Inquisitor.

If anything, she treasured the moments where she can do as she pleases with no witnesses. That way, any imperfections, any weaknesses she may have will only be known to her. Dark, enclosed rooms gave her more space to be less observant of herself; the shackles of her insecurities did not bother her so when she cannot see them. In the dark, it was as if she was a wisp – no physical form to speak of, existing the way she likes it.

Stormy nights were the exceptions to that rule.

The atmosphere was damp and heavy. The air was cold, but not like the crispness of early mornings – it was the restricted kind of cold, the kind where a person could feel suffocated. It filled Trevy’s pores with a deep unease. She tried to sleep through it, but the sound was no less chaotic. The rainfall cracked loudly against her window panels, shrieking in between the cracks. This storm was a windy one, seeming to come from all directions at once. Wherever there was a wall, it was as if a battering ram made of large stones collided against it. It was akin to a titan throwing a tantrum with dense footfalls.

These pains were manageable. Trevy could simply layer her ears with cloths so as to dampen the sounds. Any panics that the sky would crumble from the storm could be stifled with the knowledge that it is likelier the Breach would send them into oblivion first.

It was the smaller, subtle sounds that made her that darkened her mood. There was no pattern, and whatever reasoning she could give would be set aside by childhood fears. The whip-like cracks that hit her window paneling reminded her of her mother’s switch against her back. The heavy creaking of the mahogany doors resembled that of her father’s. The occasional halestone brings her memories of the tongue-clicking that her parents would do whenever they would point out another one of her traits that disappoint them.

“A girl with so many flaws has no worth being a Trevelyan,” they would say, “but your misshapen form makes you lower than the rats scuttling about.”

They were not referring to any physical abnormality – Trevy would prefer it if they had. The sin they were condemning was her apathy for the roles that anyone in the family were obligated to carry. She did not wish to be a chantry cleric, nor to be married off to some noble. She did not want the life of bored leisure and petty politics. But in a family where tradition is kept sacred, it made her an outsider. Ever since Trevy exhibited differences as a child, her relatives would make it a pastime to point out how lowly she is. It made her less of a Trevelyan to her parents, and less of a person to herself.

As Inquisitor, it was her duty to heal the sky and protect Thedas from evils spewing out of it. The sky, it seems, returned her efforts with demons she could not fight.

“No use trying to sleep now,” she sighed, “no rest for the wicked, indeed.”

The candle at her bedside found itself to be lit up. It served as the Inquisitor’s guide into the library, if only to distract her mind for the time being.

\--------------------

The ambassador of the Inquisition did not mind the rain. She was also in the library to seek refuge, but not to shelter herself in fear, but rather to ruminate. It was not often that the pitter-patter of rainfall would encourage her reflective side, but tonight her growing feelings towards the Inquisitor demanded her attention, and some research.

Josephine was not entirely sure what drew her to the library at that particular moment, though she knew that Trevy would spend time there perusing a certain section.

“Might as well see what all the fuss is about” she muttered to herself.

The section was opposite Dorian’s resting place, nearby the Tranquil researcher. Not many paid attention to it. The lighting was just enough to read in bright mornings, and difficult at any other time of the day. Cobwebs littered the sides, mating with the dust motes encompassing the shelf. Josie, whenever she saw Trevy taking a book – not that she watched her often – always observed that she would have to wipe her hands on her trousers every few pages, as if the books were so rarely used that they were repurposed to dust-colleting, instead of educating. Josephine would not be surprised if it was the Inquisitor herself that ordered for that literature in the inventory when Skyhold was newly occupied. She was only puzzled that of the few material items that the Inquisitor holds sacred, it was those books that she treasured most of all.

Could it be books on war strategies? Marshall tactics? Hand-to-hand combat? Josephine wished that she would find them discussing diplomatic topics – the Inquisition could surely do better had their leader be less aloof.

The cuffs of her sleeping robe grayed when she reached out to pull one of the books. Her height did not spare her clothing brushing against the dirty wood. The book was heavy, and she had to use both hands to safely lower it from the top shelf. She knew that this one was the Inquisitor’s favourite (not that she was paying attention to the specific books being read, of course.) Recipe book? One of Cassandra’s questionable novels? A diary?

She laid the book snugly across her right arm, and with the other hand, opened it halfway. In the candlelight, it was difficult to make out what was written, the lines all appeared squiggly and foreign. When she realized what it was, however, her eyebrows almost reached her hairline in shock. Her earlier struggle came from her assumption that there would be letters inside.

It was only numbers. What few letters there are serve as symbols for the various equations laid within. Josephine did well in mathematics in finishing school, but she focused more on the foreign customs, and of even with her sufficient understanding of numbers she recognized that only a mind that is heavily enthusiastic with the field would be insane enough to attempt to grasp whatever was in the book. One of the strings of equation, she recognized as the one being hotly debated between University of Orlais’ top mathematician, Madame Germain, and the academics of Montsimmard. She recalled that their problem rose from the fact that verifying the theorem to be valid would be impossible, for to validate it would need it to be tested on all numbers. Are such concerns the ones demanding the interest of the Inquisitor?

Trevy has a number fetish.

Josephine giggled at that tidbit of information. With how closed-off the Inquisitor normally was, she treasured every personal information she could gather. As a former bard, she was adept at deciphering truths behind behaviours. Though she reckoned that not even Leliana could find out the Inquisitor’s particular affinity for numbers had she not seen the books themselves. Josephine knew that this quirk would amuse her endlessly. She was also comforted by the fact that it was not only world-saving thoughts filling Trevy’s mind. It may even be so that the possible reason for the Inqusitor’s quiet personality would be from concentrating so much on mental arithmetic.

Josephine blushed when she imagined inviting Trevy to count the threads on her breeches.

“Ambassador?”

Josephine squeaked, nearly dropping the book in surprise. She did not expect company on this part of the castle, much less so the company being the object of her fantasy. Her blush further deepened when she noticed the clothing the Inquisitor wore. Her nightdress had a sash by the hip that was loosely tied, so the collarbones up to the valley between Trevy’s breasts were visible. The hem stopped mid-thigh. Already, she could feel herself growing crazy at the sight of those muscular, smooth legs.

“Inquisitor! A pleasant surprise,” Josephine forced herself to reply after spending a moment too long imagining what those legs would look like wrapped around her waist. “Sleep evades you as well, my lady?”

“Ah…yes.” Said Trevy. She was wary that she might admit to such a childish act of being afraid of storms.

But Josephine, ever astute, sensed there was more to it.

“Back in Antiva,” she reminisced, “rain was rare, even more so torrential downpours. I remember climbing into my Mama’s bed as a girl. She would chastise me – ‘ _Hija_ , it is not proper for girls to come running to their parents because of a few moments of rain.’ But as she would say that, she would begin rubbing my back, then hum sweet hymns until I fell asleep against her. Up to this day, I still hear her hums whenever rain was had. Did you have a similar experience, Inquisitor?”

“Um…no.” The Inquisitor did not care to elaborate further. The flashbacks still lingered in her mind, and she did not wish to bother the ambassador with her baggage.

“I see.” Said Josephine.

Silence cloaked both women. The torrential downpour raged around the castle, the howling heard from every nook and cranny. Trevy scratched the back of her head. She did not wish to go back to her bedchambers yet, but she also did not know how to proceed. Unlike Josephine, she had no nostalgic anecdotes she wished to share. She couldn’t. She knew that plenty of her allies and soldiers viewed her as an intimidating creature – and she was fine with that. Had they viewed her as friendly or enthusiastic, she’d be obliged to break out of her shy shell, a task that she only had the patience for when absolutely necessary such as in fetes or balls. In normal company, however, and especially _beautiful_ company, she was as good as mute.

Fortunately, her hobby found itself to be useful even in the most unlikely of situations.

“Is that Lady Agnesi’s Analytical Institutions you’re holding?” Trevy remarked.

“Oh, this? Of course!” Josephine scrambled for an answer, “Lady Agnesi was Antivan, and her…curves are widely discussed up until now.”

Josephine cringed at herself. As chief diplomat, having a way with words were a second skin to her. After some months of working with the Inquisitor, she knew how to behave herself around the woman she fancied. And if she was feeling particularly bold, she’d openly flirt with Trevy in such a way that is still considered professional, yet with underlying wants. In fact, she never experienced any lapses in her dealings with Trevy, until now.

She was short on sleep, and her current company’s attire did nothing to rationalize her thinking.

“The Witch of Agnesi! That is one of my favorites. I never took you for a woman invested in the numerical arts, lady ambassador. We must discuss it, if you’ve the time.” Said Trevy.

“Ah, my lady, I am afraid I am not as well versed in numbers as you are. You would have more enrichment in discussing with the scholars at Skyhold. I was just curious about this section of the library, is all, and took out this book for no reason. Absolutely no motive for this book - none.” Josephine confessed in a rush. “It is interesting, but my math is limited to what was taught in finishing school and in my family’s business. I alone cannot study this by myself, even if I want to.”

Josephine was egging her on. The thick book was clutched tightly across the Ambassador’s chest. As she was lowering it to put it back in the shelf, the other woman caught sight of Josephine’s bountiful bosom. Her nightgown was modest, but the silken fabric, coupled with Trevy’s observant eyes, did nothing to hide them. Trevy, in all her years, had never more wished to be a dusty yellowed tome.

 She did not wish to part with her company yet. The reason, at first, was purely innocent. Being alone meant facing her fears, and she did not have the constitution to deal with them tonight. It would be too painful. Her attraction to the ambassador turned the reasoning into something more selfish. This is a night where there was no reason to discuss Inquisition matters, and so they were both allowed to be casual with each other. It would be unlikely for another opportunity like this to come anytime soon. Some bravery would be needed.

“I cannot claim to be as good as the Empress Celene’s court mathematicians, but I would be able to teach you about Lady Agnesi’s work – if you are not to retire anytime soon, that is. I could even tell you about the derivations I gathered when applied to another function.” Said Trevy.

“Lead on, my lady,” Josephine smiled, “I’d like you to teach me about your _curves._ ”

The Inquisitor coughed. She enjoyed the light flirtations they sometimes partake in, but there was something about tonight that made Josephine more direct. Maker only knows how she’ll be able to focus on numbers with that attitude. Still, she was excited. Mathematics and her crush? Varric would no doubt write about how disastrous that combination could be.

\--------------

“I did not know that such a combination could work, it seems so heretical if one were to take it at face value!” said Josephine.

The Inquisitor could only giggle at that. That was the beauty that got her into her hobby in the first place. Things being not quite what they seem, an apt parallel to the trials she faces as Inquisitor. Mathematics was a world where she could feel the same amount of thrill and exert the same amount of determination without any fatalities. Usually. There was always the case of publications going too much against the Chantry. As it is, she was content to share some of her happiness with the woman whose sole presence contributed much to it.

Josephine sat back down on the couch they held their discussion at. She was fascinated with the way her company articulated the ideas around the topics. The way she gesticulated with her hands was most fascinating, she marveled at the method in which Trevy’s lips moved, the brightness in her eyes whenever she delivered a point, the smile on her face the whole time. Had she not been more self-aware, Josephine could blame the firelight for the way the Inquisitor’s features were beautifully lit.

She still listened to the content of what the Inquisitor was saying, but she was trained as a bard, and bards are experts at being able to divide attention to words and actions. It was a skill she frequently utilized in charming nobles. And if she wished, it can be used to end them. But this moment was not to find any weaknesses, or vulnerabilities - this was the most she had seen Trevy talk in a conversation, and the most lively she had seen her out of a fight. Indeed, if she were looking for points to exploit, it would not be for any political gain, but rather to find a way that she would end up in her arms someday.

“Thank you, Josephine. I’m surprised you didn’t walk out in the middle of a madwoman’s ravings. It would not be the first time.” Trevy chuckled.

“It is not mad to be able to have a passion, even as a woman so demanded of as you are. You need not hide yourself so much around me.” Josephine grasped Trevy’s hand.

Trevy looked down at their enjoined hands. They were close enough to be able to have a whispered conversation, but still too far, if Trevy’s heart were to be asked. The two women had retired to the Inquisitor’s bedchambers to talk after being discouraged by the spiders in the library. It was not out of place for the Inquisitor to discuss matter with her allies in her quarters, given its privacy and relative safety. Plus, Josephine reasoned, her own ambassador’s quarters was messy with paperwork and the warm fireplace in Trevy’s bedroom would give them both comfort in the cold night. She ignored the teasing voice in her head – which suspiciously sounded like Leliana – that the only warmth that will really satisfy her would be Trevy’s.

“Inquisitor –“

“Trevy, please.”

“-Trevy,” Josephine paused. She cherished the way her name sounded in her mouth, “I know that you are a solitary woman, but I also know that you are not antisocial, and appreciate the company of others. I hope that we can be…friends.”

Trevy looked up. Josephine’s eyes were devastatingly beautiful in the firelight. It pierces her in a similar way as the Anchor does. She moved closer and grasped the hand that was holding hers with the other.

“Of course. I confess that I feel most at ease in your presence. Words do not come naturally to me, as it does to you. I could manage in professional settings but at personal affairs…I find myself lacking. As your friend, I hope that you would not find me too dull and quiet.” Said Trevy.

“No, my lady, I would not ask you to change yourself. Although in the professional aspects, it would be best if you could act less…”

“Unsociable?” said Trevy.

“…quite, yes. Perhaps I could teach you, in turn, like the way you did tonight?”

“I would very much like that.”

“Good, then.”

“Good.”

A silence, but this one loaded with meanings and opportunities. It could be an opening, or a closing. Josephine was good with such. She recalled Leliana’s tale of how she came to be in a romance with the Hero of Ferelden. The spymaster could be insufferably romantic when she wanted to, and perhaps Josephine could take a page out of her friend’s book.

“Have I mentioned I like the way you wear your hair?” Josephine asked.

“What?” Trevy felt a thumb caressing her wrist.

“When you leave for your excursions in the mornings, the way the early light shines upon your hair makes it seem like you have a halo. It is simple, like Leliana’s, but fits your face and personality so. The ends complement your face structure well.” Said Josephine.

Trevy inched closer, “Do you often observe my face, lady ambassador?”

“Your face is one of the images you project to the world. And as chief ambassador, it is my job to ensure that what you project to the world agrees with the Inquisition. And right now? You look as an angel sent to save the world. A flower who blooms in the midst of adversity,” Then, in a low voice, “A woman utterly, and mercilessly, _ravishing_.”

The effect was precise. Josephine never broke eye contact as she spoke, and Trevy felt each word drive her more and more into madness.

“Josephine, I – “her breathing quickened. She did not know what to say.

“Yes?”

Josephine remembered that words were not the Inquisitor’s strength. So, she stopped waiting for a reply, and opted to let actions convey her meaning.

She moved closer, close enough that their thighs were touching, close enough that she could feel Trevy’s irregular breaths on her cheek. With her free hand, she reached up and lightly stroked Trevy’s lower lip with her thumb. She always marveled how soft those lips would feel if she were to kiss them. For all of Trevy’s talk of circle radii and x- y- coordinates tonight, she did not realise that she herself was the point in which Josephine’s world centered.

In a moment of sudden daring, Trevy took that thumb in her mouth and softly sucked on it. Josephine gasped at the display of eroticism. She felt herself getting aroused when she imagined the tongue swirling on her digit doing the same to her other extremities. The atmosphere between them was hot with unsteady breaths and anticipation, both women considering themselves at the mercy of the other. Trevy released her thumb with a pop. The height difference made the Inquisitor slightly look up to Josephine as she observed the way her grey eyes focused on her lips.

Josephine was about to lean in when –

**BANG**

A crash, followed by a shout. The Inquisitor was about to leap up to investigate whether the castle was getting attacked when a familiar laugh echoed from the source. Who the culprit was became clearer when the unmistakable buzzing of bees reached her ears.

The storm, and its unholy sounds, had stopped. Only stillness remained. The heavy atmosphere between them dissipated, but the implications were clear.

“I think Corypheus would sooner admit defeat if he recruited Sera to his ranks. She’d annoy him to death.” Trevy drawled.

Trevy did not know to proceed from there. She craved Josephine’s company, but she was also afraid of what such intimacy would require of her. There was still her past that she must sort out herself. In time, hopefully, she would be strong enough to let another person in. They would have to wait.

“I thank you for your company tonight, ambassador. But I’m afraid I would have to retire soon; Cassandra and I will leave for Caer Oswin at dawn. I’d like it if we could do this again.”

Josephine’s heart dropped. She was sure that they were reaching a tipping point. Had she pushed too strongly? Been too bold? She feared that tonight was the closest they would ever get, that never again would she see Trevy be so alive.

With a sigh, she sat up and began for the stairway leading to her door.

“Of course, Inquisitor. Have a good rest.”

Josephine felt her wrist being grabbed. There was no room for questions when a warm hand was upon her face, and soft lips kissing her cheek. She let out a breath she did not know she was holding. Trevy held her lips there for a few moments too long to be considered platonic. There was a message she wanted to convey, and she trusted Josephine to be clever enough to understand.

Finally, she removed her lips. Any more time spent in that proximity to Josephine would weaken her resolve.

“Good night, Josephine.”

Josephine nodded, and went down the stairs. She took her time; each step punctuated with a subtle sway of her hips. The Inquisitor never took her eyes off of her until she went out the door.

Her night began with a storm, and it ended with another force of nature.

 

**Author's Note:**

> writing about math > studying math


End file.
